


Black Wings of the Reach

by bamboofoxfireproductions



Series: Black Wings [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Abuse, Death, Destruction, Gen, Gore, Graphic Violence, Immortal, Read at Your Own Risk, Shapeshifter, Srsly there is some messed up shiat in here, Torture, curse, graphic death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboofoxfireproductions/pseuds/bamboofoxfireproductions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mighty creature of flight and fire haunts the jagged cliffs of The Reach, a beast that the Forsworn fear and barely dare whisper of, and which none alive know the origins of. Dragons are not the only monsters to terrorize the land and air of Skyrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baneful Crow

"I can't believe we're having to wait around with no fire." This complaint was voiced aloud from a solitary Bosmer within the group, wrapping his arms against his chest and hunching over them with a testy look at the others.

"Quit your whining, Thading," an Orc barked, rolling his eyes. "None of us are happy about it, but it would give away our position. We don't want them to know we're close."

"Well I don't see why it's such an issue," Thading snapped, sitting up slightly with a light of challenge in his eyes. "It's not as if camping by the roadside is all that unusual. What will they even think of it?"

"Maybe that we're good for robbing an' killing?" a Redguard woman pointed out. "Besides, even if they have no interest in that, they'll get suspicious when we haven't moved on for days. Best we be careful if we plan to pull this off."

"How do we know they don't already know we're here, just waiting to spring upon us?"

"You think the Forsworn wouldn't have made a move by now if they knew we were this close to one of their camps, just sitting around?" A Nord this time.

"Maybe." Thading huffed and sat up further. "This better be worth it."

"We won't know until Thedr and Zahi return, but even _if_ they don't have many valuables in that fort to take, having a stronghold to call our own would be well worth the effort."

"And then we can always make our fortune tolling travelers to use the road toward Markarth," the Orc finished, giving the Wood Elf a pointed look. "So shut your hole before I cram it with steel."

"About that..." Thading began. The Orc gave him a look of warning, but somehow he either appeared to miss it or had no sense of self-preservation. "Are we really sure this is such a good idea? Setting up a toll road on the way to Markarth? You _did_ hear what the innkeeper at the Old Hroldan said, didn't you? About the flying beast?"

"Yeah, I heard him, but I haven't seen or heard any sort of flying creature here," the Orc snorted.

"Yes but just because you haven't _seen_ it yet, doesn't mean it isn't here."

"I grew up in these parts as a lad," the Nord said slowly. "And been through the Reach many times. I've heard talk of it, but I've never seen this beast either."

"Neither have I," the Orc nodded agreement.

"Well I've personally never met an assassin of the Brotherhood, either, but it doesn't mean they aren't a very real danger," Thading quipped.

"Well unless I see it for myself," the Redguard woman said, crossing her arms. "I'm not going to believe in it either."

"Assuming you survive that long. They say that no one who sees it survives." Thading shuddered.

"Don't be ridiculous! Stories come from one of two places; survivors and liars. Otherwise no one hears of it," the Orc scoffed, cuffing the elf over the back of the head. "I almost hope its real and it _does_ eat you, to be so stupid."

There was a rustling, and the whole group went on alert, standing and drawing weapons.

"Peace, friends!" They relaxed as a Redguard man appeared, and behind him, a black-and-grey Khajiit melted through the shadows, barely seen in the darkness. "It's just us."

"So how did your scouting go?"

The newly arrived Redguard nodded.

"There's an unmarked path further down the road that heads up between the rocks for the fort. The path itself isn't guarded, so we can just walk straight up it. Over the hill at the top, you can start to see the fort. The only way in is through the front, but Zahi, Thading, and Saadl," he nodded to the Khajiit, elf, and Redguard woman. "You three should be able to sneak around the wood battlements and take out the sentries quietly. After that, Valrok, Felnar, and I will charge in and take those on the ground by surprise. You lot will rush up to the walls and take out any archers. Our goal is to take them out without those inside hearing the commotion and coming outside to provide back-up. Once we're in, we'll try to take out the rest while they're sleeping. By morning, if all goes as planned, Fort Sungard will be ours."

* * *

Things did not end as planned.

That wasn't to say that it started out badly. Quite the contrary, it began quite well. The first three of their group were true pros. They reached the wood look-out post outside the walls with ease, and while Saadl watched the look-outs on the wall further in, Zahi took out the one posted outside quickly and silently, without ever raising alarm. Then they stilled and watched as Thedr, Felnar, and Valrok sprinted to the entrance, hiding beneath its archway for the signal.

Saadl saw the look-outs move to stand above the archway, looking out into the cliffs and plains, and signaled for the three men to make their move and go charging in. As soon as they launched into battle, the sound of metal clashing, Thading loosed his arrows expertly into the two on the wall, the other arches who drew their bows to take out the men infiltrating the fort that very moment.

With those at the entrance dispatched and the fight begun, the three outside rushed in to help.

Valrok swung a mighty battle-axe overhead and pushed back two Forsworn warriors at once, charging at the head of the pack, clearing the first set of stairs with a mighty roar of valor. Felnar locked broadswords with another enemy, while Thedr quickly dispatched one Forsworn with a clean scimitar slash to the throat, then leapt readily at another fearlessly.

The other three sprinted up the steps into the fray. Saadl gutted one man that came at Thedr's back, pushing them carelessly off her blade. A glance of appreciation passed between them, but they had no time to stop in the middle of battle. Zahi snarled fearsomely at a Forsworn woman and bared both fangs and claws, lightning dancing out of her palms and clashing with stone as the Forsworn dodged, only to take an arrow in the leg and crumple, where Zahi finished her off by grabbing her head while sparks of electricity came to life and zapped the life out of the woman.

Another Forsworn charged in and slashed Zahi's shoulder with an axe, the Khajiit screaming pain and toppling backwards off the ledge back onto dirt several feet down. Before the enemy could pursue, Felnar lunged with his broadsword and took over the battle with that enemy. Valrok decapitated one man he backed against a wall, another coming for his back, but he turned again with amazing speed and sliced them in half through the gut with a mighty heave of his weapon. He leapt over the body and spilled innards to pursue another who had already lost their nerve and was running for one of many doors in and out of the inner part of the fort, cutting them down the spine before they could reach it.

Heading the opposite way and having pushed their enemy out of the main courtyard and up onto the walls, Thedr and Saadl switched back and forth like wrestling partners, one first taking on an enemy, wounding or killing them, then backing out and letting the other take over seamlessly, needing no words to know when to back off or when to take over, making for a surgically precise tag-team.

An archer aimed for them, but Thading quickly turned his own bow on them, knocking an arrow into his chest and staggering him. Zahi rushed up the steps as they were still recovering, and pushed them over the wall, watching as they fell and bounced down the cliffs, snapping their back and limbs in the process. The feline purred her delight and sprang around for the next enemy, lightning dancing between her claws excitedly. An enemy tried to leap down from above onto Thedr and Saadl, but the Khajiit lunged forward and toppled them both over, rolling across the ground, and sunk her fangs into the Forsworn's neck, tasting no small amount of blood and feeling them gasp and sputter liquid in her jaws.

Another leapt down, but Felnar ran them through the side, drawing his sword out of them, covered in blood, and took off their weapon-arm with an arching swing. The person fell screaming and choked out blood as he plunged the broadsword into the man's chest - once, twice, thrice.

A hagraven's ungodly screech announced further trouble as two of them and more Forsworn appeared, fresh to the fight. Fire flew, hitting Felnar in the head and making him scream and stagger. A Forsworn leapt down and plunged a serrated blade down his shoulder and into his chest, the man spasming and coughing red. Zahi screeched her fury and slashed the man's ear, barely missing his artery vein. Valrok roared his own rage and lunged forward, axe cutting like butter into the hide armor of a woman and killing them both painfully and instantly, before whirling on the other reinforcements.

The hagraven's retreated back from the blade while Forsworn rushed forward, Valrok taking them all on at once, not slowing even as an arrow found his chest, while Zahi arched protectively over Felnar, hissing, spitting, and clawing or blasting any away with lightning that dared try to take either of them out, even as the man lay dying beneath her. Those she missed or who were too tenacious found arrows in them moments afterwards from Thading's bow.

Thedr only glanced back for a moment before refocusing on his own fight, slaying one Forsworn, then letting Saadl take over and attack the next, driving them back between four pillars just before a long drop to the main road. Saadl sheered the flesh of the enemy's calf off and left them lame, crawling backwards towards the drop as Thedr approached for the kill.

" _It comes! It comes from the ash and the fire! The Black Wings!_ " The Hagraven's suddenly screeched cowardly alarm and turned to flee back inside the fort. The Forsworn still fighting watched, some becoming immediately frightened and others not yet noticing the change, before those that weren't first cut down and slain also began to panic and turn tail, howling terror.

It was only a moment later that realization began to take fold that there was a sound that shouldn't have been there in the deep thickness of night, long after the sun had begun to set. The sound of crows cawing and screeching above and around them became a din that was quickly overtaking the sounds of battle and Forsworn cries of unbridled fear. Opaque black shapes flickered through the night above them in a tempest, creating a squall that blotted out the stars and the moon. On higher parts of the fort, many of those shapes took perch and clumped together, the six bandits feeling many beady, black eyes on them rather than seeing them in such poor lighting.

The cawing rose to a deafening pitch, drowning out every other sense of existence beneath their squaller.

A sound like a large _whoosh_ of air was barely heard overhead, but still noticed. Flickers of light like yellow fire danced above, leaving tails of golden light as they arced around. The large shadow that soared above them was _enormous_ , the size of a Giant, at least, but _flying_. One of the fires burning on the wall briefly illuminated its shape, a jet-black figure with long gold threads that trailed behind, and flames of its own spotting long wings that each individually stretched the length of a mammoth's body in full-span.

The beast circled and fanned its wings as it came to land on the highest point, the sound of its massive talons scraping stone audibly heard. Once perched, the behemoth splayed its wings, feathers arching, and its body ignited fire, dancing harmlessly off feathers the size of a man's forearm on its body and even longer on the wings. A keening screech echoed off the cliffs and walls, and all of the crows which had been drumming out a drowning raucous of chatter fell deathly silent as if commanded to.

When its own silence joined them and the flames became dimmer, but still alive, it left a foreboding disquiet in its wake. The group shuffled uncertainly as the creature eyed them with a ravenous scorn, and they couldn't help but be intimidated by how it almost seemed to radiate an aura of rage the same way it radiated heat from the flames off of its body.

The only one who dared break the silence was the last one who wanted to be there, Thading pointedly retreating several steps towards the archway they had first entered through.

"S-see? What did I tell you all! The beast is real! We should have never chosen the Reach as our place to set up camp!"

" _Hmph_ ," Valrok grumped, wringing his meaty hands around the handle of his axe. "It's only an oversized chicken! There's five of us and only one of it! I bet we can take it!"

"M-make that four! I'm not sticking around for this!" Thading harped fearfully. "We were warned and those Forsworn probably didn't flee for no reason! Die if you want to, but I won't!" He turned tail and sprinted, while the large bird-beast drew itself up higher, hissing at them and readying to pounce.

"Come on, birdie! I have a nice head-blade just waiting for you!"

Screeching what almost seemed a personal challenge, the avian leapt over the edge of the tower and spread its wings, coming down without even the slightest bit of hesitation. Valrok swung his axe, but it flew overhead just shy of the blade, flying further. The flames on its body extinguished and it seemed to disappear within moments, melting into the night. The crows began to cry again and took to the air in a noisy storm, blinding movement in all directions that obscured the landscape.

"Where did it go?! Coward!" The Orc snarled hatefully, whipping his head around to find it. A flap of mighty wings overhead, and Zahi shot lightning upward, but hit nothing except for couple of smaller crows that fell from the air. She hissed fear and frustration, pupils wide as the moon, and then the full bulk of the flying beast came atop her, snatching her up into the air.

The Khajiit screeched her horror and writhed, wantonly firing off Sparks. The giant bird screeched what may have been pain and dropped her above a fatal drop, the Khajiit disappearing below into the open wilds.

The bird circled around again, and ignited as it came swooping down upon Thedr and Saadl, who rolled out of the way, but the beast didn't keep flying. It landed, swivel-skidding to the side and jumped atop Saadl, pinning her under a massive, clawed foot, and popped her head off with its beak like the head of a soft mushroom.

Thedr keened harrowing dismay and lunged forward with a vengeance, aiming for the beast's head but instead slashing its shoulder as it dodged aside, earning a screech of pain that quickly melted into blind fury. It arched itself downward and out, and snapped its large beak around each side of his rips, forcing the Redguard against one of the stone walls and trying to crush his chest with its bite so that the man could nary breathe, his dark eyes finding a single sky-blue orb encircled by a long, jagged scar glaring brazenly murderous at him.

He screamed hatred for the monster and kicked it hard in the throat several times, but it only increased the pressure, picking him away from the wall to slam him.

Valrok unleashed a battle cry and charged in, bringing his axe into the side of its neck. The bird screamed agony and loosened, staggering to the side. Thedr fell to the ground, but he was quick to rise again, clutching his scimitar by the handle tightly, and lunged for the gaping wound in the flailing beast's throat, running it through. Talons the size of his own hand individually raked into his side, goring him open and sliding open some of his insides, but he ignored it, twisted the blade savagely within its neck so that blood sprayed outward, until he could hear it choking and gurgling a revolting throe of death.

When it finally fell still, he pulled his blade out, just as viciously, and stared at it with enraged sorrow in his watering eyes. Panting, he only now gave the gash into his side attention, covering it with his hand, and turned away. He staggered to Saadl's headless body, dropping his blade and falling to his knees. He reached out to hold her, but stopped, too sickened by the sight of what had been done to even fathom the idea that _this_ headless corpse used to be his lover.

He buckled over on his knees, biting his lip until it bled to keep from screaming in grief, and silently cried, ignoring the cold seeping through his body as he continued to bleed.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

This wasn't _real_.

A bark of warning rang out, but it was too slow, the sharp casings of a beak capturing him by the head and flicking him in the air.

The bird rose unsteadily and Valrok charged forward again with his axe, but the beast whirled and knocked the Orc into a wall with a long, whip-like tail lined in feathers all the way down, which was just as long as its body, if not more. It leapt atop him and pinned him to the stone under both feet, talons breaking the thick hide of the Orc's shoulders as it held its head craned up, keeping Thedr in a vice as he struggled and flailed, then it ignored its body again, and both Redguard and Orc were caught in flame, screaming and writhing as the scent of scorched, burning flesh filled the air. Even as the Redguard was still howling anguish and struggling to escape, the bird flicked its head in one swift motion, and a crack signaled a broken neck, before tossing the charred corpse aside.

It's attention turned to the last left as the flames began to dissipate, the hardened Orc gasping and whimpering roughly. The avian squared itself, talons digging into his back more mercilessly and earning a weak cry, before it plunged its beak into his back, tearing it open by the spine as it yanked it loose, then split open the remains of the ribs and ripped out everything beneath that.

Stepping off the remains and flapping up onto one of the archways, the giant corvid screeched a long, ferocious sound off the peaks of the surrounding cliffs, and the storm of crows that amassed in the sky and in wait on the structure of the fort already began to swarm the bodies.

Before the night was done, the baneful Crow forced its way inside the fort, ripping apart all who hid cowering inside and splattering the walls and floors with their life and what pieces remained of them, not a single one spared nor any killed quickly or with any sort of mercy.

As the sun peaked over the horizon, only one figure emerged from within with its life in-tact, sighing into the frigid air of the northern province, covered in blood and bits of severed flesh from head-to-toe. Boots coated in red slapped on stone and a long, black cloak lined in feathers and down trailed behind. With a curious croak, several birds landed at the human figure's feet, peering up at him. Some were bold enough to flutter onto his shoulders and arm, grabbing the fingers of one hand he held up for them to lick up the blood that coated them and nibble at his stained brown hair.

A single working eye coldly surveyed the carnage in a mix of revulsion and satisfaction; revulsion for those he had slain and satisfaction for their demise. With an irate huff, he massaged the juncture of his neck where the burn from his own fire cauterized the wound to his throat closed, the nerves still pulsing in agitation that refused to quiet down.

"Disgusting..." he hissed silently, single hue smoldering with contempt. "I'll rid the world of all of your pitiful kinds. Every last one."


	2. Unburning Immortal

Struggling was entirely pointless.

He knew that, but he still put up at least a small amount of resistance. Whether it was out of more out of fear or rebellion, it was hard for him to say for sure. Either one were as likely a reason as the other.

Snow and frosted earth crunched under many pairs of feet, eager to reach the growling river that channeled through the ruins. He was the only one who didn't want to go, but he wasn't getting much choice, being that he was the youngest and smallest among any of them. Hands roughly shoved him forward and he stumbled, falling face-first into the frigid channel.

He searched for the bottom, pushing himself up and sputtering water out his nose unpleasantly. A kick under his ribs was even more unpleasant, flipped him onto his back instead, and he floundered to find a way to the surface again so he could breathe properly.

That attempt ended about as well as he expected. The larger boy pounced on top of him and pinned him under the surface, straddling his stomach, hands on his neck and giving him no chance of fighting free. He peeked his eyes open, but he could barely see anything except for the white foam as the current rushed by, obscuring all but the most vague of dark shapes above.

He tried holding his breath, but there was only so long he could hold out, especially not having gotten the proper chance for a breath earlier. He couldn't hold it anymore and gasped, inhaling water. He already knew by this point how things would go. It wouldn't be the first time. The liquid in his lungs was icy, and it physically ached. He knew better than to keep inhaling, hoping for air to push out the flood, but instinct was taking over, making it worse as he struggled to draw oxygen and only took in more ice water.

His lungs felt like they would burst, and he kicked uselessly, splashing, but it was the only protest available to him. If the older boy above him noticed the signal, they didn't care enough to extend mercy. Thrashing turned into twitches and squirming, grasping the wrists of the hands on his throat and tugging. Cold seeped into every part of his body, raising goosebumps and making every joint hurt. The crystalline water filling his airways and stomach made him feel sick, heaving desperately, and he would have whimpered if he could.

His awareness of it all did not waver in the least, full consciousness denying him reprieve from his suffering, and it was all he could do just to stare up at the rippling surface in resignation.

Finally he was yanked free and he coughed water and bile onto the shore, snatching a gasp of much needed air, though the frosted air burned him both inside and out like thousands of needles, biting soaked flesh. Screaming immediately filled his ears, and he would have cringed if he wasn't already busy expelling water from his lungs.

"...things to do, now get back to it, before I tan all of your hides!" Another hand, larger and firm, grabbed his arm just beneath the shoulder and yanked him to his feet roughly while he was still coughing. "And you! What are you doing so far out? Get back to where you belong!"

Not for the first time, he was shoved forward and staggered, barely staying on his feet. Veiled blue eyes glanced over his shoulder, but he walked obediently, shivering violently in his skin. The fierce wind whipped snow from the sky and ground, and he drew arms around himself as he slowly trudged back to what he had been doing before the group of older boys had pounced him. A bucket sat on the stone with red berries caked in ice scattered where he'd first dropped it, and he collapsed to his knees to pick them up, ignoring the cold as best as he could.

He knew he was supposed to retrieve more snowberries than what he had, but he was already so cold he could barely move, and he still had stairs to climb before he would reach the inside of the ruin where it was warmer. He received some watching glances, but none of them were pleasant or warm. If anything, they were accusatory, though no matter how hard he searched his memory he couldn't peg a reason to it. Instead he merely kept his head down and shuffled onward, up the icy stairs towards a door higher up on the ruin.

Around the corner of the entrance hall was a room with a long table. The glow of a fireplace and a couple of braziers lit most of the chamber. A couple of women walked or sat about the room, dressed in fading black robes. The figure he went to was a woman with leathery, vastly wrinkled skin, with large black feathers sprouting from parts of her flesh, and her feet and hands ending in scaled, elongated bird talons.

"You've brought me what I asked for?" she rasped. She plucked the bucket away, staring down into it with an unpleasant snarl. "I told you to bring more of them!"

He bowed his head guiltily, still visibly shivering. He had no desire to go back outside and he hoped that she wouldn't demand it of him.

"I was trying to... but the other boys tried to drown me..." he offered up softly, so much that it was almost lost beneath the sound of her constant wheezing. "...s-sorry..."

"Dirty, filthy children!" she hissed. He flinched, looking even smaller. "Curse them all! Can't be trusted with anything. Screw everything up. Be gone with you!" she screeched, and he was quick to do that, ducking down the other hall further in, around the corner, and up some stairs. There was an open balcony with a wood drawbridge going over the dining room, and he quickly went across until reaching a room on his left.

Inside was a circular pit filled with hay, several shelves, and a chair. What he took most interest was the adjacent fireplace and that the room was unoccupied, and he finally shed his icy soaked shirt and pants to sit on the stones near the flame. A thin scattering of small, black feathers bristled on his shoulders and upper back as he drew his legs to his chest and shimmied close to the flame, letting it fill him and take away the cold that felt as though it had frozen him down to his bones.

For a while he just closed his eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the occasional voices of the women downstairs talking amongst each other. Every so often he would change position so that one part of his body or another was closer to the flame.

Laying on his side, he watched the flickering golden embers and idly reached a hand out until it disappeared into the flames. The heat was intense, but it didn't physically burn him, and when he drew his hand away, small embers continued to dance on his skin for a few moments before vanishing harmlessly.

A life that wouldn't snuff out and a body that wouldn't burn in flame.

He had no way to explain these abnormalities and as far as he knew neither did anyone else. His feathers he didn't think much of either. He had always known the hagraven matriarch to have them, so how were his own so strange?

Yet, he had no bird-talon feet or hands, everything else wholly human like everyone else, and he wasn't revered like she was for having them. He was not a hagraven, and the matriarch was not his mother, so couldn't explain at all why he was this way. None of the others could either.

Besides, hagravens, while powerful, could still die, and as far as he was aware, he could not. He could still be wounded, and he certainly still felt pain as much as anything else, but couldn't die, and unconsciousness was a hard thing to come by. For some reason, these facts were treated like an invitation to see how much damage could be done, like nothing more than a challenging game of cruelty.

He could still remember everything that had been done. Broken bones and dislocated joints... one of his wrists still ached from time to time, never having healed properly. There had been times where he was spotted in bruises like a snow sabre, and he'd been stabbed or slashed numerous times. He'd been hung and drown more times than he could count.

He didn't understand why others took that as reason to hurt him, especially when - few oddities aside - he was rather small and frail, but it was a common theme.

Exhaustion finally baring down on him, his eyes drooped as he watched the fire dance, giving in to sleep willingly.


	3. The Mockery of the Hags

He didn't know what was happening, but he knew he wasn't going to like it.

A witch dragged him along by the arm on either side, the boy straining to keep up with their pace but forced to go along anyway. His blue eyes were wide and he hadn't the chance to ask what was going on, but their demeanors were enough to keep him silent in terror as they ascended the stairs to a room with a circular pit with candles around the entire edge. A black stone pedestal overlooked the set-up, with a metal bowl sitting in a stand of branches at the edge of the circle, tainted red with old blood.

He saw the hagraven matriarch, eyes silently asking if he had done something and now he was in trouble. Eyes soon shifted to a blade sitting on the pedestal that she picked up between her talons, and he didn't need to ask to know it was intended for him. For what purpose, he could only guess, since it wouldn't kill him anyway.

He let out a gush of air as he was thrown to the ground and his arms twisted behind his back and tied. Others were appearing - other Reachmen and witches - and he was getting an increasingly bad feeling. One of them climbed up to the stone eagle's head above the shallow pit and tied a rope to hang down from its lower beak, and the other end tied around his ankles so he ended up hanging from it upside down.

His breaths came quick and short in thinly suppressed panic and he squirmed in the air, watching one of them bring the blood-stained bowl to stand right beneath him.

"Wh-whatever I d-did... 'm sorry... I won't... won't do i-it ag-gain..."

He fell silent as his head was wrenched back by his hair, falling into a whimper. He could see the wicked grin of the matriarch as she came forward with the dagger he'd seen earlier, which glowed with a faint color that marked it as something more than an ordinary blade.

"Cry~ cry~ but no one is going to save you no matter how much you squeal. Maybe we can't kill your body, but we can always take your soul." It was at that point he noticed a large crystal that one of the Reachmen places in the center of the bowl, and then the movement of the dagger out of the corner of his eye, the sharp point pressing against the tender pulse of his neck just below the jaw.

The sharp edge sliced deeply from behind his ear all the way down to his collarbone, blood immediately flowing from the open gash to dribble off his chin. Blue eyes widened with a gasp that became choked. A hand kept a tight hold of his hair, keeping his head still, as the blade slid down the artery on the other side as well, before letting him go to squirm and writhe as pain branched out from the wounds and a panicked pulse pushed his life blood out faster.

A whimper broke past his lips and eyes darted around the room in silent plea, seeing only unfriendly, expectant faces, waiting and wanting for his life to expire. He couldn't explain why it was such an interest to them, but there was nothing that he could do about it, almost wishing for the same as them, if only to finally escape their harm.

His vision turned hazy, a deep cold creeping through his skin and breathing ragged, but his consciousness remained fully through it as did the pain. He struggled against the bindings on his arms to no avail, gasping and coughing. Trembling violently, he angled himself slightly to look as the Hag held up the bloodied dagger between both taloned hands skyward.

"Old Gods, hear us! We, the devout Forsworn, create for you an offering! Take this creature of soiled half-blood that mocks the gifted form of the Matriarchs! Dispel this abomination from our presence!"

He felt a hand roughly grab his hair again, yanking his head down, just before the glowing blade plunged into his chest.

He jolted in agony as it ran past his ribs all the way to the hilt, piercing directly into his heart, which heaved and fluttered at the intrusion. Instinctively he thrashed, choking out gasps and cries around the blood that leaked in his throat.

The initial stab was bad enough on its own, but he had been stabbed before, and it was never like _this_.

Crowding needle pricks like a hive of stinging, angry bees spread first through his veins outward from where the dagger impaled him, before feeling as though his insides were shredding themselves apart in unison, the anguish like he was being ripped in half quickly spreading from his chest and abdomen across his entire body all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes and making his head pulse like it was going to explode. It felt like his lungs constricted and shriveled down in his chest and made it impossible to breathe, the boy rasping for air desperately and attempted screams coming out in short, sharp burst of the most horrible noise.

His eyes darted about the room in a panicked daze searching for an escape, fighting wildly to get free. He twisted his arms against the bindings, his arms and legs feeling like his bones and shoulders were splintering with every twitch, while his face felt as though someone was trying to rip part of his skull away from the rest. His skin itched and prickled, and everything felt hot. At some point he regained his voice, screeching a distressed a sound that was foreign even to his own ears, and saw several of the surrounding people take a few steps back, eyes going wide.

He heard something snap and fell straight down onto the bowl standing below him, knocking it over onto its side and spilling a deep pool of blood - _his_ blood - all across the floor, while he himself landed on the dagger that jammed further between his ribs.

It finally seemed his struggles were worth it when the bindings on his wrist came undone, and he struggled to push himself up so that his weight was off of the weapon, floundering. He didn't get far, his arms not wanting to cooperate to support him, and he collapsed again, squirming and gasping like a beached fish on the red liquid in his airways.

Only now was he noticing something he hadn't before - something that had _never_ happened before. He shifted his arm, but instead of an arm, it was something long and black with fuzz, like feather down, the limb misshapen and not quite human but also not quite bird, flames dancing off the dark feathers. He was noticing now that where his nose should have been was something closer to black and shiny, messily meeting flesh and more black fuzz partway down. He tried to speak his confusion, and instead what came out was a croak, something like that of a raven, but inherently _wrong_ -sounding all the same.

The feeling like his very being was being shredded continued to assault him, but by now it was equaled by the weight of fatigue, and he could only lay there and try to breathe around the anguish, seeing the forsworn and Matriarch watching him with looks of hate and disgust, willing him to die.

He rested his head down and let his eyes roll back, not knowing to whom he sent it, but praying for the same. Anything to make it stop.


End file.
